


The Most Important Thing

by orphan_account



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Angst but only a little bit cause these boys got Issues, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Domestic Fluff, Dubiously Immortal Character, Fluff, Found Families, Gen, Going to Hell, Gorillaz In A Happy Mood, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Medicinal Drug Use, Multiple Writing Styles, Murdoc is a closet intellectual and I will stand by that, Nightmares, Noodle was a Lego kid and I will stand by that, Not Canon Compliant, On hold at the moment sorry, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Paula Cracker Sucks, References to Drugs, Soul Selling, The Godfather - Freeform, This Got Really Gay Oops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22797199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "The most important thing is listening to the recording of the music"A collection of G-bites written by yours truly. Expect: domesticity, nobody getting abused, good cooking, bad cooking, and found family vibes.Temporarily suspended while I get my act together (APR/08/2020)
Relationships: Del & Russel Hobbs, Murdoc Niccals & Noodle, Murdoc Niccals & Stuart "2D" Pot, Murdoc Niccals/Stuart "2D" Pot (heavily implied), Noodle & Del, Paula Cracker/Stuart "2D" Pot (past), Russel Hobbs & Murdoc Niccals
Comments: 15
Kudos: 53





	1. Preface

PREFACE 

\--ON TEMPORARY PAUSE--

This is a collection of loosely connected one-shots (non-canon G-bites, essentially) in which Gorillaz remain in a happy mood! A bit of a love note to happy domesticity, found families, and the casual intimacy that comes with knowing someone for a long time.

I’ve changed things sort-of as I wish, so don’t expect exact canon parallels, (read: nobody gets abused [also my grasp on actual canon is loose at best])

Unless explicitly stated in the notes of a chapter, there will likely be no concrete 'plot' because I am a weenie who can not commit.

Should remain Gen unless stated in notes of a chapter, if there's something I forgot to note, let me know!

Chapters shouldbe in mostly chronological order, but I can't promise anything. I would recommend checking the chapter list after an update, instead of assuming it will be at the end. This is the flaw of writing without a plot. Oops.

I will only ask for attention once, but comments/kudos/ etc are highly appreciated + very encouraging! 

(Also, if you've got ideas for little chapters, let me know, and I'll include my favorites)

Edit I: Apologies for any angsty bits (or chapters) but frankly Gorillaz is a sea of trauma wrapped in a satin bow, and there's some stuff that needs to be dealt with before I can write the pure sweet happy stuff.

Edit II: Acknowledging now that in all likelihood characters won't be just how they are in canon, especially Murdoc, for a variety of reasons most of which are just excuses for my poor characterization skills.

Edit III: My chapters tend to be very short, (like less than 1k) and I'm sorry for that in advance. I prefer to post something rather than nothing at all, and inspiration doesn't always strike when I need it to. I do my best to compensate by posting often, but it's not the same, I know.


	2. In Which Russel Hobbs Is Nearly Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Russel tries to read a book, Del torments his main man, and Russel's feet fall asleep (twice)
> 
> Pre Phase 1
> 
> (Note: slightly Del/Russel, it's implied)

“Del, man, you gotta get off my feet, I’m gonna go numb.” Russel turned to Del, who seemed not to have heard him. Russel sighed and pulled his feet out from underneath his friend’s butt. Or, he tried. Del was heavy enough that Russel could not manage to extricate himself. “Del. My brother. My feet are gonna fall off, would you lemme out.” Del, seeming not to hear, leant backwards into the sofa, grinning widely as he played whatever it was he way playing. Russel thought it was maybe that game Del had gotten for his birthday, _Chrono Trigger_ , he thought the name was.

“What was that? Sorry, di’n here you. Gotta speak up, prep boy.” Del grinned wider, still focused on his game. Russel sighed, and yanked his feet out. His mates found the idea of him having gone to a nice, academic, polite prep school entertaining. Russel didn’t mind, really. He supposed it was a funny contrast compared to what people thought was cool at Brooklyn High.

Del seemed to find an appropriate stopping place and shut off his game. Russel set down his book and turned to his friend. Del was, well, being Del. He had on his signature hat, the one he would never explain to anyone, even Russel. It was a well-known fact that Del and Russel were closer than close, and even ‘Ol’ Russ’ wasn’t allowed to understand.

While Russel was distracted in his own head, Del reached over him and took a peak at his book. It was a little one, clearly much-loved. It had some sort of demon fellow on the front, in goofy sunglasses.

“‘Kinda book is this?” Del held it up in front of Russel, and returned to his previous seat, pointedly sitting back on Russel’s feet.

Russel turned to look, and was caught with the face of the ever-charming demon Crowley.

“That’s _Good Omens_ , you can read, can’t you? By Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. Some of the best authors of our time. It’s about Armageddon.” Russel said, reaching for his book. He had no problems with Del reading the book itself, only his copy was written in and he wasn’t quite sure he needed Del to see all that, not yet.

Del, seeing Russel’s obvious intent, leant back and flipped open the book, to somewhere in the middle. The sea of words was lost on his eyes immediately, but he spotted his own name in Russel’s careful, small handwriting. Tragically, the little book was snatched from him before he could read on.

“Aw, don’t be like that Russ. I was only looking.” Russel mumbled something inaudible, and put the book on the table next to the sofa. There were things in there he _really_ didn’t want Del reading. Writing in books was his way of thinking out loud and well, everyone wondered sometimes.

“Come on, I’m not ‘bout to go snooping around in _your_ stuff.” Russel said. He wasn’t hurt, just didn’t like the intrusion.

“A’ight man, you keep your little book. I’m gonna settle in for a nice, long nap...” Del snuggled into the sofa, remaining (tragically) on top of Russel’s feet.

“Don’t you dare, Del.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Edited! Please let me know if you spot any grammatical errors, etc.  
> \- *chanting* RUSS RUSS RUSS RUSS RUSS RUSS RUSS RUSS RUSS RUSS RUSS  
> \- Are Russel and Del in love? That's for me to decide, (the answer is yes)  
> \- Shout out to Good Omens for being my literal shit. The book is so, so good, and the TV show is also good which was such a surprise. (Terry Pratchett owns my soul.)


	3. In Which Stu Moves Out Of His Parents' House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An excerpt from 2-D's journal, Paula Cracker is a sadist, and a break from canon compliance.
> 
> Pre Phase 1

Excerpt from the journal of Stuart “2-D” Pot. Published alongside the 2011 special release of the album _Plastic Beach_ , by the band Gorillaz. Later removed from print at the request of Mr. Pot.

_November something-or-other, 199-_

_Ah, jeez. I really thought this whole journal thing would actually help some, you know? Mum made me go to a therapist, and the therapist said it would help me ‘order my thoughts’ or somethin like that. Really though, my thoughts are in order, it’s the getting them out of my head that’s hard. It’s like. Like you’re trying to strain pasta, yeah? and the water’s not gettin out. It’s like blaming the pasta for not being wet when really the colander (colender? I don’t know) when really the colander doesn’t have big enough holes. It’s crazy! My thinking is just fine._

_Anyway, last night I was at Paula’s house, because last night was a Friday and I go over on Fridays. And Paula and I were all about to spend the night together like, and she was being awfully tempting, all laid out on the bed. And I got a call! At maybe eleven PM. So of course I answered it and it was Murdoc, the bastard. We had a little conversation, and I’ll do my best to get it down correctly?_

_Murdoc: Oi! Dents. You there?_

_Me: Yes, only I’m rather occupied_

_Murdoc: I’ve got the offer of a lifetime for you, you won’t be able to refuse_

_and then I said: Are you sure it can’t wait?_

_and Murdoc said: Get this, how’s about you join my band, be our frontman. I’ve heard you sing, it's like a host of angels. So. You join the band, yeah? In exchange you can move outta your parent’s place, and move in wif me! I’ve got a second room and everything_

_Then I told Murdoc I had to go, really, and he told me to think about it, and Paula asked what the call had been about and I told her. She looked at me all angry like and said she wouldn’t be with me if I moved in with Mud, which I thought was rather much, since it would be worlds better than me living in my parents house like I do right now. I don’t understand why she thinks it’d be worse. Anyway, it sort of killed the mood in the room and that was such a shame because she was all lovely looking in this little lacy thing..._

_This morning I called Murdoc back and told him I’d do it, since he was rather nice about my singing and I really don’t want to live in my parent’s house any longer. And in... fifteen minutes I’m catching a bus over to the place to scope it out. I haven’t told Paula yet, and I’m not sure when I will. She seemed awful serious about what she said, and I don’t really want to break up with her._

_3:15 PM (ish?)_

_I’ve just gotten back from looking at Murdoc’s place and I’m definitely moving in! I’d get a room to myself, and I rather thought he was lying about that, and it’s bigger than mine right now anyways. He said I’ve gotta pay half the rent which makes sense, cause I’m half the people living there. Then he told me what the rent was, and it was a little less than I’ve gotta pay my parents in rent and stuff anyways, so there’s no sense not doing it. I’m just hoping Paula was joking about leaving me. Anyway, now I’m off to start packing up my things, since I should move in as soon as I can. I’m awful excited about all this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Edited! Let me know if you spot any grammar/spelling errors, though  
> \- A peak at my au, in which 2-D and Murdoc lived together for a while before the band really formed. Not for any real reason, I just think it's funny to imagine the two of them trying to live together on their own, without Russel to keep them alive.  
> \- It's my personal headcanon that 2-D is actually relatively high-functioning, he's just got a problem getting his thoughts out of his mouth. Obviously this is nowhere near canon, but that's fine by me (shhh)


	4. In which Murdoc Gets An Unexpected Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc is hungover, 2-D has a nightmare, and Paula Cracker remains the worst.
> 
> Pre Phase 1
> 
> (Note: Okay I said I'm keeping this Gen but uh. Oops. Highly 2-D/Murdoc. There's no explicit romance, but they do like cuddle in bed and then fall asleep together.
> 
> Also note: mentions of homophobia & use of the term 'queer' as a slur. Not said by anyone we care about, but you know.)

Murdoc Niccals woke up to the slow, irritating creak of his door sliding open on its rather old hinges.

He immediately regretted the act of waking up, as he discovered he was in the uncanny valley between deliriously drunk and painfully hungover. His stomach churned, and he knew that wasn’t going to remember whatever tonight’s nightmare was tomorrow morning.

Then, he noticed the figure in his doorway which he at first assumed to be a pretty run-of-the-mill night terror -- tall, gangly limbs, empty eye sockets, spiky blue bedhead -- wait a moment.

2-D looked at Murdoc sleepily for a moment, and then seemed to nod to himself.

“Did I wake you up? Sorry,” He said “Just wanted to make sure you’re all right.” Dee looked like  _ shit _ . His eyes were puffy and there were little tear streaks down the sides of his face. Poor bastard. “Had a bit of a nightmare, I did,” Of course. The only bloody thing that Murdoc couldn’t tease old Dents for. Nightmares. Murdoc sighed.

“Come sit, Dee. You look damn miserable,” Murdoc sat up in his bad and patted a space at the foot. 2-D grinned wetly at him, and sat down, somehow managing to fold his impossibly long limbs into a neat little package. “Tell me about it?” The thing with 2-D was, he was always better if he talked about it. Always. The idiot had some sort of internal processing issue, and apparently talking it through helped him. Murdoc didn’t mind, really. It was always interesting to hear about other people’s issues.

“Well, uh. You remember Paula?” Paula.  _ Fucking _ Paula. Broke 2-D’s heart, she did. Tried to get Murdoc to frisk around with her. Of course, Murdoc knew better than to do that, 2-D was his best mate after all. Paula got all angry when Murdoc said no, hit him real bad. Broke up with 2-D. Called the both of them some really awful names. Murdoc remembered especially, she had accused poor Dents of being a queer, and Murdoc had nearly killed her for that. Was about half a second away from grabbing a knife from the kitchen and going at her.

2-D coughed, hiccoughed, and began to cry again. “Well she uh. Ngh. She was real angry, I din’ see her but she. She called you awful things. Real awful. An’ then she hit you, and you had this awful bruise all up your face --” 2-D gestured to his face with a thin hand, and Murdoc didn’t recall his fingernails being painted the previous day -- “And then that night, that night she. She broke in, left the window all in little shards, and she.” He didn’t seem to be able to finish. “You were. All bloody like. It all felt awfully real, and I just had to make sure. Make sure you’re okay, yeah? But I guess you are, so I’m going to,” 2-D rubbed a hand over his eyes, wiping away tears. “I’ll go to sleep now, since you’re okay.” Murdoc sighed,

“Eh, Dents. Stay awhile. I know you won’t be going back to sleep, and I wouldn’t mind the company.” Murdoc patted the bed next to him, and 2-D slid up, until they were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. Murdoc took a moment to look at Dee, really look at him.

The poor guy had clearly had a tough night. The usual bags under his eyes were deep and purple, and he looked somehow thinner than usual. Murdoc lifted the covers.

“Get in, I’m too warm in here, and you’re always a bloody icicle.” This was a bit of a gift to 2-D. Poor fellow was so touch starved, Murdoc couldn’t sit next to him on a sofa without the guy getting nervous. 2-D looked almost as if he was going to start crying again, and climbed in next to Murdoc, immediately huddling against him.

“Murdoc, you’re a furnace. I could cook an egg on you.” 2-D smiled, and Murdoc couldn’t help but grin in return. 

“It’s the fires of Hell, mate. My homeland burns within me, can’t you feel it?” Murdoc pressed a hand against 2-D’s cheek.

“Oh, gerroff-” 2-D said, smacking Murdoc’s hand away, “You’ll burn me. Tssss. You can hear it, listen.” Despite whatever he was saying, 2-D was curled into Murdoc like he was whenever this happened. It happened rather frequently, too. He seemed to get nightmares of the sort requiring sustained physical contact pretty often. Murdoc didn’t mind too much. He liked the company, really.

Before he knew it, 2-D was conked out, curled in a little ball with Murdoc sort-of wrapped around him. He felt his stomach twist, the nausea of his soon-to-be hangover hitting him once again. He mumbled something unintelligible into the back of 2-D’s head, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- It's midnight. I'll edit later.  
> \- This got so gay I'm sorry. I said I'd try to keep it Gen but like sometimes we need snuggles okay.  
> \- Have u noticed that I hate Paula yet.  
> \- Oh my god they were roommates.


	5. In Which Noodle Arrives at Kong Studios

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noodle arrives.
> 
> Pre Phase 1

She opened her eyes to deep darkness. The floor -- rough, wooden, and splintery -- was rattling beneath her. Nestled in her arms was her guitar, a precious item. She seemed to have light skin, and was wearing an army green coat. As she inspected her surroundings, she spied a stack of papers. She grabbed them, intending to investigate, but the rattling stopped and the world lurched to a halt. She hadn’t realized she was moving. 

The box she was in, and it seemed to be a box, was picked up and set onto the ground with a thud. She collected herself. She had arrived at the place of her future. She didn’t quite know what that meant yet, but wherever she was, she was staying. She looked down at the papers. The top one was a cutout of an ad in some paper, “ _Now hiring: f**cking good guitarist. No hippies, layabouts, or even mediocre guitarists,_ ” in English. The words fit in her mind, but when she tried to fit her mouth around the syllables, she discovered that she did not speak English. She must be here to be the guitarist. She knew guitar. 

She readied herself for her box to be opened as soon as she heard a doorbell ring, tucking the papers in a pocket and situating her guitar. A muffled voice maybe a meter above her said, 

“The hell is this? Did anyone order something... large?” Definitely English. She could not wait any longer, she wanted to play her guitar. It was a very special guitar. She propped a foot against the top of her box, and pushed, hard. She was far stronger than she expected, and went far out of the top in a flying kick. She allowed the force of it to throw her in the air and then to pull her back down to the ground. She said,

“Watashi wa anata no bando no ōdishon no tame ni koko ni imasu. Watashi wa gitā ga tokui desu!” Except it wasn’t in English and she didn’t think they would understand. To substitute, she played her guitar. She played it loud and well. It sounded like what she knew guitar should sound like, loud and excited and resounding down into her toes. 

Eventually, the music came to a slowing. She felt the song, if it could be a song, getting tired. So she stopped. She bowed in front of the three people, and caught sight of a word written on her wrist. “Noodle.” She could say that in English, the sounds were the same. That would be her name, she decided. 

“Noodle” She said, and pointed at herself. One of the men, the one with heeled black boots, and gray jeans, leant down and looked at her.

“Here for the band?” Noodle nodded,

“Hai.” The man straightened his posture and looked at his two friends. They were a motley crew. The tallest (by at least ten centimeters) had blue hair and funny holes instead of eyes. The other one was sturdier, the same height as the first man, though since the first man was wearing heeled boots Noodle supposed the large man was actually taller. He had glowing white eyes and a bald head.

Noodle noticed the tall one’s shirt, which had some sort of large primate on it. She looked to the first man, with the boots, and pointed at the shirt.

“Kare no shatsu ni gorira wa imasu ka?” She said, and then realized her mistake. “Gorira?” She asked again.

“Eh?” The heeled man said, and looked at her pointing finger. “Oh yeah, that’s a gorilla. Funny creatures, gorillas.” His face lit up, and he smiled a wide smile, looking at his two friends, “How’s about it boys? Shall we be Gorillaz?” The other two agreed, though only the tall one really seemed to care much. All three looked at Noodle, who nodded.

“Hai. Goriraz.” They were a band. Noodle looked at the three men, who all seemed as if they would rather like to go inside now. She wanted to pick one to follow, to let lead her around. Only, this was the first moment of Gorillaz. She wouldn’t pick her favorites yet. Instead she strode purposefully ahead of all three, breaking into a run in order to reach the door before the long-legged man in the monkey shirt.

Unbeknownst to her, the three men stopped walking for a moment and shared a glance. It was a glance that said a lot of things, but it mostly boiled down to, “ _This is going to be an adventure._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Next up: phase one! very excited, always liked phase one. Zombie hunting, here we come.  
> \- All Japanese is just Google Translated, so please forgive me any grievous mistakes.  
> \- Noodle's first bit of dialogue roughly translates to: "I am here for your band audition. I am very good at guitar!" and her second means something like "Is that a gorilla on his shirt?"


	6. Interlude: The Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc visits the Boss' office, Satan supports proper parenting, and promises are made.
> 
> Phase 1

Murdoc Niccals got a call. It was barely a week after Noodle arrived, barely a week since Gorillaz became Gorillaz. He was sitting in Kong Studios’ home theater, half-watching one of Dents’ zombie flicks when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it at first, as he was wont to do. It kept ringing, and ringing, and ringing. Then the necklace ‘round his neck, with the inverted cross on it (not even actually a Satanist symbol, but most people thought it was and that was what mattered.) started to heat up. It got warmer, and warmer. Finally, Murdoc gave up and answered his phone, before it burned off half his chest hair.

He was in Hell. Not metaphorically. He was in Satan’s meeting room, seventh circle. It had these big wrap-around glass windows and really good coffee. He had been there before, of course. When he signed the original contract. 

“ **Murdoc Niccals.** ” A voice said, in that eerie way, where you can’t tell if it’s in your head or if it’s actual soundwaves. Murdoc knew that voice. It was the man below, the big red fella.

“Allo Satan.” He said. A trickle of sweat ran down his back, but whether it was from nerves or from the heat of the underworld, Murdoc didn’t know.

“ **We are here to renew our contract, as we do with every damn band you start.** ” The big boss wasn’t too happy with the fact that Murdoc’s bands never worked out. Murdoc didn’t care. They would, someday. Maybe it would be Gorillaz that finally made it big.

“You betcha. Same deal, my immortal soul in exchange for immortal fame for my band?” Satan did not respond. It was strange, talking to an empty room. Murdoc fidgeted, picking at his nails. He really needed to trim them, they were starting to get in the way of playing his bass. He didn’t need that.

Finally, the contract appeared on the table in front of him. Murdoc skimmed it, and his eye caught on something.

“Eh. I’m not promising anything about the little girl yet. She’s only eight. Kids don’t need fame, it’s bad for em.” Murdoc had stolen some book on parenting from a public library a few days ago, with the intent of giving it to Russel as a joke. He realized that Russel would probably break his nose over it, and he didn’t need a broken nose. Instead he’d accidentally started reading it himself. He had had a bit of a revelation about just how poorly his father did the whole parenting thing, and had decided he would do better for little Noodle.

“ **Very well. When she is grown, she will visit. We will discuss then.** ” Murdoc nodded, and all the statements regarding Noodle faded from the page. 

He looked up from the paper for some sign not to go ahead, and, finding none, pulled a ballpoint from his pocket and scrawled his name across the bottom of the page. 

_Murdoc F. Niccals._

Murdoc felt no different, not this time, and not any of the previous ones after signing the contract. He supposed he would know soon if it was all going to work out. He always knew eventually.

Well, perhaps he felt a little different. Not having a soul was certainly strange, and renewing the contract always reminded him of the little gap. It wasn’t much, really. He didn’t miss it, his soul. It was worth it for what he would get instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- 'immortal fame'  
> \- That's sort of my reasoning for why Noodle ends up in Hell, getting 'saved' by Murdoc. Contracts signed by a minor aren't legally binding, so there was no sense making her be part of the contract before then.  
> \- As someone who is interested in religion, the use of the Petrine cross as a symbol of Satanism is. Frustrating!!! I don't have any personal stake in it but like, at least use the right symbol folks. In my mind, Murdoc knows this and just doesn't care.  
> \- I realized that with my changing up of the Paula incident Murdoc wouldn't have a broken nose, and that he and Russel would probably be friends then. Kinda wild.


	7. In Which 2-D Talks About His Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2-D watches the rain, the consciousness stream is flooding, and Murdoc makes a pretty good therapist, provided you don't need any actual advice.
> 
> Phase 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Far angstier than originally planned, feel free to skip if that's not your cup of tea.

2-D grimaced as he heard footsteps approaching him across the ragged linoleum floor. He was in the second atrium of Kong Studios, which was generally agreed to be the place where folks went when they wanted to be alone. The first atrium had a sort of a living space in it, with sofas and half an attempt at some potted plants. The second atrium was empty save for whatever its current user chose to haul all the way up there. 2-D was lying on the dirty floor, staring through the glass ceiling at the rain above. Every once in a while lightning would strike near Kong, and 2-D would startle. It saved him from drowning in his own mind, which was a bit of a problem for him. He could think for hours and hours and hours, about nothing or about everything. It got to be inconvenient sometimes, like when he started thinking about things he didn’t like. He had a hard time getting his mind away from them. He’d spent days thinking about Paula after she left so dramatically. He’d stared at the ceiling above his rickety too-small bed, and thought about the long-fingered bruise up the side of Murdoc’s face, Paula’s inhuman scream after Murdoc said whatever he said, the slamming of the apartment door. He’d had nightmares about it for months.

Another footstep tapped on the linoleum, punctuated by a timely crash of thunder. The shoes were clicky, and the only one who could ever get the thunder timed just right was Murdoc. 2-D supposed it was fair. For all Murdoc joked about it, he really had a little bit of something hellish lurking in him. 2-D figured they all had things locked away inside them, he was no different. He felt his mind brush against all those things, the ones he didn’t like to think about. He felt the telltale pull at his eyes, and he wasn’t going to cry right now. He sort of just wanted to watch the rain on the roof, pounding away forever on the glass.

Murdoc’s shoes clicked again on the floor, and 2-D sat up, turning to look at him. Murdoc looked unusually sober for a Sunday afternoon, which were in Murdoc’s words: ‘ _The day that’s holy to the people who don’t like ol’ Satan, yeah? And those folks don’t believe in drinking on holy days and all that garbage. So I figured, might as well drink all the more on Sundays, just to spite the bastards._ ’ 2-D had almost understood his reasoning, but Murdoc was Murdoc, and Murdoc was illogical at best.

“Issit a bad time, mate?” Murdoc asked, tugging awkwardly at the sleeves of his shirt, “I rather thought the room would be empty. Weren’t you in the theatre a few minutes ago?” Murdoc looked confused, and sat down on the cold floor next to 2-D. His jeans needed to be washed, and 2-D resolved to ask Russel to make Murdoc wash them. Russel and Murdoc got on strangely well for such dissimilar people. They would sit for hours and talk about theology, or obscure linguistics things, or global politics. 2-D didn’t like the way those things fit in his head, they settled into his mind like they lived there. They fit too well with a different version of him, one that didn’t have a cheese grater for a mental filter. Instead, he would sit on the floor, legs akimbo, and let Noodle beat him mercilessly at Mario Kart 64. He would feel like an overgrown child, afraid to go sit with the grown-ups, but too old for the kids table at family dinner.

“Allo? Dents, you in there?” Murdoc tapped 2-D on the shoulder, and his eyes refocused on his friend in front of him.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Got distracted. I’m alright, just needed to think about things. Look at the rain, you know.” 2-D brushed a bit of hair out of his face, and tucked it behind his ear. He needed a hair cut, if his hair was getting long enough to go behind his ears. Only, he sort of liked it long. If he grew it out enough he would be able to put it in a pigtail, and then it would all stay out of his face. It hadn’t been all out of his face since the time he tried to dye his hair brown again, when he was fourteen. The brown had mixed with his natural blue, (was it natural? he certainly didn’t dye it, but he wasn’t sure falling out of a tree was a reasonable way to acquire a new hair colour) and it made an awful muddy green colour. His parents couldn’t wash it out, so he was forced to buzz all his hair off. It had been terrible, his head felt naked. 

“You sure you’re all right? Have you been crying?” Murdoc looked imploringly at 2-D, and pointed a calloused finger at 2-D’s cheek, “You’ve got little tear tracks all over.” 2-D rubbed a hand on his face and it came away wet. Maybe he had been crying. He really didn’t know.

“Maybe? I don’t know. I was just thinking...” He wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his chin on his right knee. “What if it never happens, you know?” He didn’t really even know what he was saying, it was just whatever needed to be said. Words were words, and really didn’t mean much. He felt tired and ill and like he was going to cry any minute, and he had a piercing headache and his eyes were getting to him and not letting him focus on Murdoc correctly.

“What never happens?” Murdoc said, and patted his leg. They would do this, back when it was just the two of them. They would take turns resting their head on each others’ knees, and talk about whatever needed talking about. It became a bit of a symbol, something like, ‘ _talk to me_ ’ only less strange to actually say, because nobody had to say anything. It was an invitation to let whatever little bit of 2-D he kept bundled away breathe some. One day, in the middle of August in the sweltering heat, Murdoc had turned off all the fans in their apartment, sat down in the living room with 2-D, and talked about his first journey through Hell. It had all seemed like a metaphor for something bad that had happened to him, because people didn’t actually go to Hell, that wasn’t how things worked. People died, and then they were reborn as something else, and then they died and were reborn, and this kept on happening until eventually it didn’t. 

“I don’t know. What if it’s always like this?” 2-D realized he probably needed to explain _this_ , and just gesturing with his arms wouldn’t do him much good. He had ended up with his head on Murdoc’s leg, looking up past his friend’s face and out through the ceiling at the endless, relentless, rain. “Like. Like, you know after you’ve just gotten done with a good cry, or even a bad one, and your eyes feel all heavy. And you just want to go to sleep, no matter what time of day it is? It’s like that feeling, the heaviness, except it’s everything, every shred of me feels it. It’s like, like if I just let go I’ll be so heavy that I fall through the floor forever.” 2-D rubbed a hand on his eye, and Murdoc pulled it away.

“That only makes the headache worse, leave off.” It was customary, they didn’t _talk_ about what they said, ever. 2-D sighed.

“It’s terribly lonely, really. Like I’m all alone, even though I’m surrounded by you all! Gorillaz is the best thing I could hope for, really. But it keeps pulling down, and I think I’m going to be alone forever. What if I never find my soulmate? I know they don’t exist, it’s just. What if nobody ever looks at me like that again? I’m always just the tall fellow with no brains. I’m not a _person to be loved_.” 2-D’s eyes stung, and he felt hot tears dripping down the side of his face and itching in the corners of his neck. His nose was going to start running, if he kept this up. Murdoc looked down at him, and his eyes were red-rimmed and maybe he had been crying too, 2-D couldn’t really tell. Murdoc squeezed 2-D’s arm, and said nothing as tears dripped down his face and into 2-D’s hair.

Still, neither of them said anything, as they both turned to look up at the endless rain, pounding away on the roof of Kong Studios.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Ah shit, here I go again with the projecting onto troubled white boys. It's beginning to be a real problem  
> \- I said this was gonna be happy, didn't I. I just like. I need to get my angsty feelings outta the way so I can write that good cozy shit you all came here for.  
> \- Also why is this so long???? I guess it's because I wanted to write 2-D more stream-of-consciousness, which means its gonna be very long.  
> \- Do u guys like this better ?? do I keep the chapters shorter? I doubt I'm going to maintain writing them this long, cause this one came on out of a spurt of inspiration that came with the discovery that I yet again have zero (0) friends. We're doing great rn folks.  
> \- I kept trying to understand the layout of the original Kong but I'm really struggling so I set it somewhere with no canon purpose as far as I know.


	8. In Which It's Christmas (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Buddhist, a Satanist, a Shinto and Russel Hobbs (of currently unknown religion) celebrate Christmas. Part one.
> 
> Phase 1

Noodle stared at her piece of paper looking through her list of ideas, when the power flickered. She payed it little mind, the lights were always flickering at Kong. Russel blamed ghosts, 2-D said the Zombies in the grounds were trying to kill them by taking away the heating, and Murdoc would always look grimly into the distance, and say something about Satan’s wrath. Personally, Noodle thought the place just had faulty wiring.

She chewed on her lip in thought, and then decided to figure out Murdoc’s first, because he had put her to bed last night, (even though she was nine and plenty old enough to do it herself) and he had read a book to her, _Strega Nona_ \--one of her favorites--and that was always a treat. Murdoc would do funny voices, and whenever Big Anthony said something, he would make it sound like 2-D’s voice, and Strega Nona sounded sort-of like Russel, and everyone else sounded like someone too. He had promised her pasta for lunch the next day, because she always wanted to eat pasta after reading _Strega Nona_. 

Now, she was sitting on the sofa, trying to figure out Christmas gifts. It had been 2-D’s idea, Christmas. None of them were even Christian. And yet, they had all agreed right away. Noodle was going to go with 2-D and Russel to pick out the biggest tree they could find, and Murdoc was going to buy lights and find things to put on the tree.

2-D was the chief of operations, with Russel his second-in command. Both of them had grown up with Christmas, unlike Murdoc and Noodle, who both had plenty of fun just watching 2-D try to keep his too-small elf hat on his head.

The power flickered again, and Noodle was reminded of her goal: gifts. She needed a present for everyone. That was only three people, but she felt harrowed. Birthdays were coming up a few months after Christmas, and she would need gifts for those too. So. Murdoc first. What did he need? She wasn’t quite sure. He always complained about needing new socks, but socks didn’t make a good enough gift for a holiday. Not for Murdoc, and not for the first Christmas. Hmm. Perhaps she would consult Russel or 2-D about it. 

Yes, that was what she would do. Noodle stood up, stuffed her list in her pocket, and trotted off to see who she would find. It was about ten AM, which mean 2-D was probably not awake yet. Russel liked the living room in the corner, with the two walls of huge windows. He would probably be there.

The door was open when she entered, and she saw Russel asleep on a sofa, one large hand covering his face. Next to him floated Del, reading the book Russel had been carrying around with him for the past few days. Del looked up when Noodle stepped on the creaky part of the floor, and he grinned his wide grin at her.

“Noodle! Sister. What’s up with you today?” Noodle smiled at Del, who was the only one of them who seemed to speak Japanese, though he insisted he was speaking English and it was some weird ghost magic letting them talk. She didn’t much mind.

“I am preparing for Christmas today. I do not know what to get as gifts. I was going to ask Russel for help, but since he is asleep, do you know what I should do for him?” Noodle sat on the sofa by Russel’s feet, but she caught a whiff of them and decided to move to a chair instead. Del set down his book and swooped over, casting a gust of cool air over Noodle’s eyes.

“Well. Hmm. What does Russ need... Oh! You know that cookbook he keeps in the kitchen? The Joy O’ Cooking? Well it’s about to fall apart, I swear that thing’s an heirloom or something, all the recipes are stained and shit... Anyway, I betchu could get him a new copy of that and he’d be real grateful.” Noodle knew this cookbook. It was the one with the amazing waffles in it. They were her favorite, and Russel would make them every Friday night, and let the batter rise, and they would eat them on Saturday mornings, all four of them together. Even Murdoc rose from the carpark to have Saturday waffles, and he was never up before noon most days. 

“Thank you Del! Do you think Russel will be asleep long enough for a game?” Noodle remembered the last time she had played a game against Del. It was Mario Kart, still the only good game on 2-D’s Nintendo, and he had destroyed her. Maybe she would get 2-D a game. The new Zelda game was coming out in England in a week or so... Yes, she would do that.

“Aw, I’m sorry sister. He set a timer on his watch to wake him up, we’ve only got...” Del peered at Russel’s watch, “A minute and a half.” He patted Noodle’s head, and she smiled up at him. Del nodded at her, and Noodle left.

Two gifts decided, none purchased. She was getting there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- It's nowhere near Christmas time, but I imagined the four of them having a Christmas celebration together and I couldn't shake it.  
> \- We don't know for sure what religion Russel follows, if any, so uh. We'll see. His wiki says hes Muslim, but there's no citation and I wasn't able to find reasonable proof, so. He will remain ambiguous for now.  
> \- No idea how long the Christmas bit will be, we'll see where the wind takes us.  
> \- I'm gonna have to research British Christmas traditions, cause they seem to be pretty different from American ones.  
> \- My family's copy of the Joy of Cooking is a treasured object, and I figured Russel might as well have one too.


	9. In Which It's Christmas (II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone loves spaghetti, 2-D is vegetarian, and nobody knows how old Murdoc actually is. Part two.
> 
> Phase 1

Russel looked at the page Murdoc had printed out for him, and then back at Murdoc.

“Why the hell would we have tofurkey, Mud?” He rubbed a finger on the corner of the recipe, and turned back to his trusty _Joy of Cooking_.

“2-D’s a vegetarian Russ. Gotta have something he can eat,” Murdoc said, leaning back on his barstool. If he didn’t lean back in towards the counter he’d- and yup. “Shit, ow.” Murdoc stood up from the floor, rubbing his arse. Russel sighed and turned back to his cookbook. 

“Why’s D even a vegetarian? He’s conscientious about the environment and all but... How did I not know that?” Murdoc said nothing, instead choosing to lean over Russel’s shoulder as he paged through _Joy of Cooking_. Russel sighed. What sorts of traditional Christmas dinners didn’t have any _meat_ ? It had to be a traditional one. Poor Noodle couldn’t remember ever having Christmas dinner, and sure none of them were Christians, but Russel was American and the boys were British and it was _cultural_. Russel sighed again, and Murdoc sighed, mocking him.

“Dents’ a Buddhist, apparently some of ‘em don’t eat meat. Ridiculous, that. At least he’s not a bloody _vegan_ , I suppose,” 

“He’s a Buddhist? Since when?” Russel was incredulous. Apparently he knew far less about 2-D than he thought. He didn’t really understand Murdoc and 2-D’s relationship either; the two had clearly known each other a while, but neither of them volunteered any information, and it was rude to ask. He knew there was some situation with a psychotic now-ex, and they’d lived together a while. Beyond that, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t his place, he supposed.

Russel rubbed his temple.

“I’m definitely not doing tofurkey. Why can’t we have a turkey and just make something else for 2-D? I’m sure he won’t mind...” Russel knew this wouldn’t stand with Murdoc. He was strangely adamant about things like that, always insisting that Russel help him understand Noodle’s flurried Japanese, ensuring that 2-D didn’t feel too left out when they got talking about something he couldn’t grasp. It was sort-of sweet, when he wasn’t having to explain that he had only learned a little bit of Japanese, he wasn’t nearly fluent enough-

“Hmm. What if we had something fun instead. Spaghetti?” Murdoc said. Russel couldn’t help but laugh,

“Spaghetti? I thought we were going for classic Christmas dishes?” That said, he dug out his recipe for spaghetti sauce. He kept forgetting to mark to add extra cream, the sauce really wasn’t the same without it...

“Classic’s only fun when people can eat it, Russ. Besides, we all like spaghetti. I can make it, too.” Murdoc stole Russel’s recipe and inspected it, “Needs more cream, no self-respecting spaghetti sauce has this little cream in it.” Murdoc was an interesting sort of cook. He had an instinct with food, the same way Russel did with languages. He never used recipes when he could avoid it, and while often what he made wasn’t what he planned to make, it never failed to taste good. Russel was almost jealous of it, really.

“I know, I keep forgetting to change it.” Russel said, “Also, I guess you’re right about the spaghetti, there’s no harm in something unusual.” he looked back down at the recipe, and over at Murdoc. They had both decided not to do gifts for each other. Not for any real reason, beyond that Russel didn’t really need anything and Murdoc deemed himself ‘a little too old for all that nonsense, really.’ Russel didn’t understand Murdoc’s age. Half the time he seemed to be barely older than himself or 2-D, and sometimes Russel believed him when he said he’d met the prophet Muhammad. It was strange. Murdoc would say all sorts of things when asked when his birthday was. Sometimes it was June sixth, nineteen sixty-six. Sometimes it was June sixth, in the year six AD. Sometimes he was from the thirteen hundreds, sometimes he was in his thirties.

Murdoc grabbed a pen from a pocket in his jacket and handed it to Russel.

“Thanks,” Russel said, and scribbled out the measurement for the cream, adding his own next to it. He handed the pen back, but Murdoc was gone, seemingly in an instant. “Odd fellow,” Russel murmured, and set to figuring out the rest of the Christmas menu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I know, I know, Murdoc is probably garbage at cooking. I couldn't resist  
> \- It's been like twice as long as usual between updates, but my school had just closed for the next month due to COVID-19 (sigh) so I'll have an unexpected amount of free time in the next while. If it's more than a week between updates, come kick my butt.  
> \- In some shitty Harry Potter fanfic I read in middle school Luna's family had spaghetti for Christmas dinner every year and I just thought that was such a sweet idea so... spaghetti  
> \- Not all Buddhists are vegetarians according to Google, but I figured 2-D is a sweetheart so he probably would be one.  
> \- There's this spaghetti sauce that my local Italian place makes that is literally like a dream I love it.  
> \- Please let me know if there's any issues with my characterization, I started this fic to work on that and I'd really love input.  
> \- Also, would any of you be interested in reading fic of my dumb role-reversal au? I'm still working on it but I thought it'd be fun


	10. In Which It's Christmas (III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve, the boys fill Noodle's stocking, and 2-D and Murdoc sit on the sofa. Part three.
> 
> Phase 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mention of the word 'queer' in a negative connotation.

The Christmas tree looked perfect. The little white lights reflected against the wall and around the room, making it feel almost like the inside of a snowglobe. Nobody had any ornaments because none of them had any reason to have them, so the tree was decorated with a popcorn and cranberry garland. There were a handful of peppermint sticks in the tree as well, enough for each of them to have one and for Noodle to get a second because, well, she was Noodle. It seemed a necessary thing to do. 

It was about ten PM, on Christmas eve. 2-D looked up at the tree for one more moment, and then turned away. He had to make sure Noodle was asleep, so he and Russel could fill her stocking. She was rarely in bed much before ten, because none of them wanted to take on the real responsibility of parenting her, so she was often left to her own devices. Today was a special occasion, however, and Murdoc had convinced her to go to bed early.

2-D crossed the living room with long strides, and made the trek to Noodle’s room. She had the best room out of all of them, though Murdoc would often argue that his was the better because it was mobile. Noodle’s room had wide windows and wooden floors and yes it was a bit dusty, but at least it didn’t mold like 2-D’s. He supposed it was reasonable that his room would mold though, as it was in the basement and Kong Studios was a rather old building, and frankly he didn’t even know why he picked the room in the basement. He had liked the idea of being closer to the carpark, ostensibly because he liked bothering Murdoc, but also. They were _friends_. For all that Russel waxed poetic about the dark future of their relationship, Murdoc was 2-D’s best mate, and he was Murdoc’s. 2-D’s mind wandered somewhere uncomfortably close to soppy wedding-speech territory, so he decided to stop thinking. Russel and Murdoc stood outside Noodle’s door, and 2-D greeted them both with a smile.

“Why are we doing this again? She’s nine, she knows Father Christmas isn’t real.” Murdoc said, but he was holding a neatly wrapped gift, all brown paper and red twine. 2-D couldn’t tell what was inside. He himself had gotten Noodle a record player, in collaboration with Russ, who had pooled together some of his favorite records as a gift. He had gotten gifts for Murdoc and Russel too, but those would come later. Tomorrow night, probably. After Noodle had gone to bed and they all sat down to do the same old nothing they usually did. Okay, that wasn’t quite true. On nights when 2-D couldn’t sleep, he could trust Murdoc to be up at all hours, laying out concepts and lyrics and melodies and all that other business. They would sit together and work for hours, often almost until the sun rose. 2-D had gotten lectures from Russel about setting a good example for Noodle, but he was pretty sure Russ had misinterpreted 2-D and Murdoc’s late nights as... something else. The thought of that made 2-D’s insides squirm.

Russel slowly opened Noodle’s door, waiting for the inevitable creak. It didn’t come, and the three of them tiptoed quietly into her room. Her stocking was tied to the foot of her bed, set carefully next to her red sneakers and the little black Oxfords that had mysteriously arrived in the mail addressed to her on Halloween. Her coat was thrown over the back of her chair, and the rest of the room was a minefield of Lego bricks, aside from the stack of books by her bedside. They ranged from children’s picture books to real genuine literature, 2-D was pretty sure he could see the copy of Dante’s _Inferno_ (that up until recently resided in a place of honour in the Winnie) about halfway through the stack. Noodle’s hold of English perplexed him. She could read it easy as breathing, and understood everything he, Russ, or Murdoc said, sometimes more than 2-D himself did, but she couldn’t write it and she couldn’t speak it.

2-D placed the little record-shaped ornament he’d bought into the stocking, as a hint. Alongside the ornament was an assortment of candy. Noodle liked the painfully sour ones, and Murdoc teased her mercilessly about copying him and it was all rather charming really. The two of them were close, closer than someone would expect, Murdoc being Murdoc and not well-suited to children.

Murdoc and Russ deposited their gifts, and the three retreated from Noodle’s room on silent feet. They settled back into the living room, Murdoc draped himself across the entire sofa, and 2-D made a point of sitting directly on his knees. Murdoc had done the same to 2-D plenty of times when it was just the two of them in their little apartment, and he knew it didn’t feel nice. Russel sighed the long-suffering sigh of someone who has to deal with a literal child and two metaphorical ones. 2-D grinned cheekily at him as Russel sat down in his usual leather chair. Noodle’s perch--a barstool filched from the kitchen with a throw cushion stuck on top--remained empty.

“2-D, Mud, you guys did a good job with the lights,” Russel said. Murdoc turned to look at the tree, seemingly for the first time.

“It was all Dee, I was off wrapping Sprog’s gift,” Murdoc said, shoving 2-D off his legs, “Ow. If you want a seat just say so, numbskull.” 2-D blew a raspberry at him, and tugged Murdoc’s legs off the sofa, sitting down next to him. Russel sighed again, and checked his watch.

“Hour and a half til’ Christmas. I’m going to bed, you two... have fun.” Russel shook his head and left for his room.

As soon as Russel was out of hearing distance, 2-D and Murdoc grinned at each other.

“Care for a round of Mario Kart-” 2-D said, at the same time that Murdoc asked, 

“Fancy getting your arse kicked in MK64?” The hilarity of the situation hit 2-D like a truck (or a stolen Vauxhall Astra) to the face. He and Murdoc both broke into peals of ugly laughter. “Shut- shut up,” Murdoc said, stifling his laugh with the arm of his ratty old jumper, “you’re going to wake Noodle up.”

2-D caught his breath. His face felt almost stiff from smiling.

“Have you ever just. Thought about this. All of it, Gorillaz? You hit me with a stolen car, my girlfriend calls us both _queers_ , we’re living together, you kidnap some fucking American with a rapper ghost inhabiting his body part-time, some rando mails us this little Japanese girl and her guitar, and here we are a few months later and we’re celebrating _Christmas_ in this shit-heap of a haunted studio, and we’ve got a cemetery next to us full of zombies and we’re writing an album and-” 2-D lost his train of thought and devolved back into laughter. Murdoc sighed, and threw his legs up into 2-D’s lap.

“I still don’t think it’s all real,” Murdoc ran his hand through his hair, dropping his manic grin. He looked. Sad. “You know I joke about signing my soul away for fame, and it _is_ a joke. But. Sometimes I think I actually did, you know?” Murdoc looked like he was about to continue, but 2-D cut him off.

“Look, Murdoc, I’m not a psychologist, I don’t know what it looks like inside your head, but this is real. Gorillaz is real. Gorillaz is everything, it’s larger-than-life. We’re gonna change the world. And anyway, it’s Christmas tomorrow. We have to... I don’t know. Celebrate. Or something.” 2-D was mumbling by the time he reached the end of his sentence. He knew exactly how Murdoc felt, felt that way every day of his life. He didn’t have the words, the output power, to explain that though. He wanted to sleep, or get high, or just. Shut his brain off for a while. 

“Ngk.” Murdoc said, laying back against the sofa’s armrest.

“Ngk.” 2-D agreed, laying a hand over his eyes. Tomorrow was Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Slightly longer chapter this time!  
> \- "[It] made 2-D’s insides squirm" mfw I can't keep my dumb gay nastiness out of this dumb little fic (sorry)  
> \- Next up: Krismis!!!!! I still haven't figured out who got who what exactly, so uh. That's on the to-do list.  
> \- Finally figuring out my role-rev AU, I'd love to know if people would read it. I don't really care if they do, but the attention is validating I guess. The cast is as follows: Murdoc!Russ, Russ!Noodle, Noodle!2-D, 2-D!Murdoc. I accidentally made Murdoc the singer and I'm. Hmm.  
> \- AO3 user bloomeandthourne projects their issues onto troubled tm white boys part seventy-two: electric boogaloo  
> \- Russel, bursting into the Winnie: I knew you were having sex! Murdoc: We're having sex? 2-D, you should have told me, I'd have put my bass down. (sorry I'm not funny)  
> \- Also yes they fell asleep on the couch together. Russel's gonna have a cow.


	11. In Which It's Christmas (IV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas. Part four.
> 
> Phase 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of prescription drugs! They aren't being abused or otherwise misused, but I thought I'd let you know.
> 
> All of Noodle's dialogue is done thru Google translate so if anyone here speaks Japanese please help me, I have no idea what I'm doing.

Murdoc woke up because. Well, because. He wasn’t sure quite why. He had a crick in his neck and wasn’t in his bed, which didn’t bode well for his current situation. He rubbed his eyes, which were still weighed heavy with sleep. Eventually, however, he managed to convince them to open.

Noodle stood in front of him in her barely a meter of childlike splendor, clad in her red pyjamas and a fuzzy robe that Murdoc had never seen before.

“The fuck’a you want? Why’re you up so early?” Murdoc mumbled half-heartedly. Noodle raised an eyebrow and turned to look at the Christmas tree. “Ah. Right. Christmas. Did’ja like your stocking stuffer?” Noodle grinned at him and held up the video game he had bought her,  _ Pokemon Yellow _ . Murdoc didn’t care for most video games, because Russel didn’t play any and 2-D and Noodle could both beat him at anything without even trying, but  _ Pokemon _ was top of the charts and  _ Yellow _ was a special edition and Noodle’s favorite colour. He’d gotten her the Japanese version too, mostly for kicks. She seemed even more excited about that though, so he supposed he could pretend there was some sweet reasoning behind it. 

Noodle looked as if she would like to sit up on the sofa with him, so Murdoc shoved his feet off the (still-asleep) 2-D’s lap and patted the space next to him. Murdoc thought a little prayer of thanks to Big Red down below for the fact that Russel didn’t seem to be awake yet. He’d have gotten a (verbal) hiding for falling asleep on the couch and letting Noodle see him. Russel was a stickler for setting a good example, and he happened to be living with about the two worst examples little Noodle could have. Sucked for Russel, he supposed.

“Okay kiddo, you go get Russ, I’ll wake Dee up. Once you get back we’ll have our Christmas. Gifts first?” Murdoc asked, nodding at the tree. There were a somewhat shameful number of presents under the tree. He had found himself rather fond of spoiling Noodle rotten, a sentiment shared by both Russ and 2-D. His wallet was feeling the worse for it, but he figured it was worth the loss of cash. He’d gotten Noodle a GameCube, which had cost him a whole £129, along with the  _ Pokemon _ game.

Noodle thought for a moment before nodding, leaving her game on the sofa. Along with it she had left a bag of sour candies, one of which Murdoc snatched, a silly little sparkly Christmas tree ornament in the shape of a record, and a few movie tickets. He didn’t bother to read them, instead reaching his leg up to poke 2-D in the head.

“Oi, Dents. Wake up. ‘S Christmas and Noodle’s on a rampage.” He prodded 2-D again, to no avail. Sighing, Murdoc stood up and walked over to the other side of the couch. He grabbed 2-D by the shoulder and shook him. “Wake up, we’ve got Christmas duties.” 2-D mumbled something and sat up slowly.

“What is it?” Dee asked, rubbing his eyes.

“It’s Christmas, dipshit. Noodle’s gone to get Russ, we’re opening gifts.” Murdoc said. 2-D yawned and nodded, leaning on the sofa as he stood. He looked like... well, like he’d slept not nearly long enough, and on a sofa as well. Murdoc supposed he looked about the same.

“I hate you,” 2-D said with a scowl, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Murdoc grinned.

“No you don’t.” He said.

“No, I don’t,” 2-D conceded, “I uh. I wish I did though. I... need a shower, you do too,” he said, sniffing the air. Murdoc scowled. Dee was probably right, frankly. He rarely didn’t need a shower. 

“I’ll give you that. Don’t take forever, Noods’ excited to open her gifts, little mongrel.” 2-D stuck out his tongue at Murdoc and fucked off to his room to bathe. Murdoc left to bathe as well, down the other hall.

-

He was the last to arrive back in the sitting room, and he arrived to a rather charming, almost picturebook scene. Noodle sat on the floor surrounded by her gifts, perhaps attempting to choose which to open first. 2-D was holding his gift from Murdoc, turning the box round and round, trying to guess what was inside. It  _ was _ a rather funny shaped box. Russel had made coffee and the pot was on the side table. Murdoc nearly hugged him. Instead he made himself a cup, with more cream and sugar than a guy of his... vibe... would have, but whatever. He did what he wanted. 2-D looked over at Murdoc and patted his usual seat on the sofa. Murdoc sat.

“What’s  _ in _ here?” Dee asked, staring at the box so hard that if he had superpowers the thing would be a pile of cinders on the ground.

“Noodle’s got the high honors today, 2-D. You’ll find out when it’s your turn to open your gifts.” Russel said, thumping 2-D on the shoulder before sitting down in his chair, “Go ahead Noodle, you can open them now.” Noodle grinned a wide, toothy grin, and set to work on what was likely Russel’s gift, based on the disaster of a wrapping job that were 2-D’s gifts. She tore the paper away with frightening ferocity, and Murdoc reminded himself to never get on her bad side when she was older. (What a weird thought, that. Noodle all grown up. He tried to imagine her face, but found he couldn’t)

Peeling the last piece of crisply folded paper away from the gift, Noodle held the stack of records aloft. She flipped through them, looking at covers and reading track lists. Then, apparently done with her information gathering, Noodle bounded over to Russel and did her best to crush him with her little pyjama-clad arms.

“Arigatōgozaimashita!” She said, smiling up at Russel. 

Murdoc resolved to learn a little Japanese. He knew  _ arigatō _ meant ‘thank you’, but the rest of what Noodle said was lost on him.

“‘Course Noodle. Got to get you some real musical culture. Murdoc’s metal has been ruining your taste.” Russel shook his head mock-sadly, and patted Noodle on the head. “What’s next?” Noodle thought for a moment, pulling away from her bear hug. She trotted over to the pile of presents with her name on them, and pulled out Murdoc’s gift. He had done a good job wrapping his gifts, he thought. They weren’t factory-perfect like Russel’s, but he’d used brown paper grocery bags and stolen twine from the kitchen, and the wrapping looked very charming and homemade. He would make a good housewife, he thought. And then, no, he would make a terrible housewife. It  _ was _ a funny idea though.

Noodle squealed when she had gotten enough of the wrapping paper off to see the box hidden within. A bright red Nintendo GameCube. At the rate they were going, by the time Noodle was twelve Kong Studios would be full of obsolete video games and Lego bricks and nothing else.

“For your  _ Pokemon _ thing,” Murdoc said. He couldn’t help but smile. Noodle looked overjoyed, “I uh. Eheh. I’m not mean enough to give you a new game and nothing to play it on, am I?”

“Dōmo arigatōgozaimashita! Chōshoku ga owattara purei dekimasu ka?” Murdoc winced. He definitely needed to pick up some Japanese.

“I’ve got not a single clue what you said, kid, but alright.” Noodle seemed pleased with his response, and returned to her gifts.

-

The rest of the gift opening passed in somewhat of a haze. 2-D liked Murdoc’s gift, a stack of old zombie flicks on VHS he’d found at a thrift shop. There were maybe even a few in the stack that 2-D hadn’t seen yet. Murdoc anticipated many nights of compulsory movie-watching. He could picture it, 2-D dragging him down the hall by the sleeve of his shirt, forcing him into their home theater. Making up some excuse about how Murdoc had  _ given _ the movies to him, of course he should watch them. He would probably enjoy it, too.

2-D had given him a new jumper, with big horizontal black and white stripes on it. He liked it, he needed a new one and he appreciated 2-D’s adherence to his preferred colour scheme. Dee was more of an over-saturated, candy-coloured mayhem sort of fellow, especially after they stopped living in such close confines and did their laundry separately; because while 2-D was significantly taller, they wore shirts the same size, and only months into living together, they’d given up on trying to keep them separate. It had been sort of disconcerting at first, seeing 2-D in one of the t-shirts he’d been wearing since about seventh year. (He hadn’t grown much after then, so most of his clothes still fit, sadly.)

Anyway, he liked the jumper.

After gifts came breakfast. Murdoc left before Noodle could get him covered in syrup. He didn’t need a second shower that morning, the first was offensive enough. The rest of the morning passed in a similarly typical manner. Noodle was glued to her new video game and shouting with glee every time she defeated one of the funny little creatures that  _ Pokemon _ boasted. Murdoc started on the spaghetti sauce at about eleven. It needed a good few hours to stew to get the right consistency, so it was best to get it done now. Russel thanked him silently with a nod and a smile, and Murdoc nodded in return. Dinner was Russel’s job, technically, but Murdoc felt obliged to help out - some nonsense about the Christmas Spirit or whatever.

The rain thudded on Kong studios’ broad walls of windows. Every so often the power flickered, (though frankly that was a pretty normal occurrence.) The Winnebago, good ol’ Winnie, his saving grace, his angel, his  _ shack _ if you know-what-I-mean eheheh, was about three inches under water in the leaky carpark. It was the one real problem with the place. Whenever it rained too much it seemed to flood, no matter what Murdoc or anyone else did. He supposed it was especially unfortunate because, well, Kong Studios was in Essex. Weather in Essex was one thing and one thing only: rain. Lots of it. 

Murdoc stood scowling at the door to the carpark when 2-D came trodding down the hall. He held a nearly empty pill bottle in his hands, and the constantly untied laces of his hightops were damp.

“Come from your room?” Murdoc asked, eyeing the damp shoes. 2-D’s basement room had a similar problem to the carpark, although it flooded less. It was more just... pervasively damp. Miserable spot, 2-D’ basement. Made Murdoc’s already bad lungs hurt.

“Yeah, the floor’s all wet again, an’ I need to refill my prescription soon. Gotta get Russ to write down a reminder somewhere...” 2-D trailed off, staring blankly down the hall.

“What’s the prescription even for, anyway? You can get pain meds at any old drugstore, don’t see why you need special ones.” 2-D mumbled something and handed the bottle over to Murdoc. He rolled it over in his palm, the little pills rattling in the bottom.  _ Take 1 pill every 12 hours...  _ (blah blah blah, he didn’t really care, actually.) Down at the bottom of the sticker label it said,  _ Amphetamine, “Adderall” _ . Murdoc looked up at 2-D.

“How’d you convince your doctor to prescribe  _ Adderall _ of all things?” Murdoc handed the pill bottle back to 2-D and stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, turning to walk up the stairs to the main level. 

“I didn’t,” He grumbled, catching up to Murdoc in two inhumanly long strides, “I didn’t convince him of anything! He told me I should take them. For some attention thing. To help focus. I don’t know, he said it was mild, some sorta thing got knocked loose after the crash. Threw my attention outta whack. Something like that.” Murdoc grimaced. The accident was his fault. His fault on accident, at least. He’d hit 2-D with his car while messing around with his mates in a parking lot, then later he’d thrown the poor bastard out the front window of the selfsame car, a stolen Vauxhall Astra. However, 2-D  _ did _ cut a striking figure after the second accident, with his mile-long legs, alarmingly blue hair, and murky, blood-filled eyes.

“Do you want to make some cookies? It’s uh. It is Christmas and all.” 2-D asked when they reached the upstairs. Murdoc brushed his hair out of his eyes and looked at him.

“Come again?”

“Cookies! You know, gingerbread or something. Decorate them with sprinkles and all that. I’m pretty sure we’ve got everything we need...” Murdoc shook his head at the idea.

“Dee, you nearly burned down the old apartment trying to make chocolate chip cookies, and while it was fucking incredible to see that old lady down the hall hobble down four flights of stairs with her mangy cat, I’m not sure it would be the best plan to burn Kong down. We haven’t even recorded our first album yet.” Murdoc said, pulling 2-D away from the kitchen. Dents didn’t do well with stoves or ovens. The best he could manage was a pot of tea, and Murdoc swore he sometimes burned those too. “I’ll even let you convince me to watch a film with you, your choice.”

“You’ve been saying that for as long as I’ve known you and yet we always end up watching whatever you want to watch.” 2-D grumbled half-heartedly, attempting to shove Murdoc into a wall. If he had been much heavier he would have knocked him over, but for all that 2-D was as tall as a tree, he weighed less than nothing. Murdoc could snap the guy over his knee. On accident. “It’s bloody rude, that’s what it is. My taste in films is under-appreciated. I’ll watch one with Noodle instead, she likes my picks.”

“ _ Noodle _ doesn’t know any better. She’s a kid, she can’t tell a good book from bad. Who’s to say she’s any different with films?” Murdoc wandered towards the home theatre slowly, letting his eyes drift over the empty hallway. The cracked linoleum tiles still held residue from the fire that occurred before Gorillaz came to occupy Kong. Creepy stuff, it was. Murdoc loved it, the ghost stories.

“She had your book in her room. The Dante one you like so much, about Hell?” Murdoc stopped and turned to look at 2-D.

“So that’s where that got off to. I thought the zombies’d stolen it. Shows what I know. Maybe the kid’s got some taste after all.” Murdoc grinned at 2-D. He held the door to the home theater open when they reached it, turning to dig through their VHS collection. Most of them were 2-D and Murdoc’s, more remnants of when it was just the two of them, but Russel had pitched in a few as well. Murdoc triumphantly dug out the film he sought,  _ The Godfather _ . 2-D groaned.

“Mud, you know I can’t stand that movie. It’s too... uh.” 2-D gestured vaguely, “too intellectual for me. Too much thinking. A good movie doesn’t require much thinking.”

“A good film  _ makes _ you think.” Murdoc countered. He inserted the tape into the player and took a seat in the middle of the large sofa that occupied most of the floor space in the home theater. 2-D sighed and sat down next to him, hauling a blanket from one corner of the couch.

“Let’s watch The Addams Family instead, I like that one.” Murdoc turned to look at 2-D.

“The Addams Family is a strictly Halloween-only film, Dee. You’re a monster.” 2-D raised an eyebrow at Murdoc, and then shrugged.

“Okay then. I’ll go get Noodle to teach me her game. An-”

“Oh, fuck off. Come watch, it’ll be loads more fun than watching Noodle play a video game all in Japanese.” 2-D sighed and settled further into his seat, pulling the blanket tight around his shoulders. 

“You got it in Japanese?” 2-D asked, as Marlon Brando’s face loomed large above them.

“Mhm,” Murdoc said. “Now shut up, Brando’s hard to hear, especially with you talking my ears off.” 2-D muttered something under his breath, and looked up at the film with resignation evident on his face.

-

2-D was snoring by the time Don Corleone was shot. Murdoc didn’t much care. He had a tendency to talk through movies when he was watching them with 2-D, and he really did want to watch  _ The Godfather _ . He supposed it wasn’t the kind of movie one watched on Christmas, but Hell, he’d never done Christmas before, he had plausible deniability. He’d grown up in a sensible, God-hating, sin-loving, shitheap of a household, what would he know about Christmas.

“Ugh.” Murdoc said to himself, stretching his stiff back. Sitting for a three-hour film was always a bit of an ordeal, but it was worth the effort. Something about mafia films was very interesting to him, he liked the combination of crime and high-class, reputable families. It was an intriguing contrast, made for good conflict.

The film ended, and Murdoc stood to remove the tape from the player. In doing so, he woke up 2-D, who had somehow fallen asleep leaning against the edge of his seat, knees resting in Murdoc’s lap. He really was a master at falling asleep anywhere--Murdoc had once found him slumped against the railing of the fire escape, used-up cigarette still in his mouth. He’d taken a picture of that, had it in a folder somewhere. It wasn’t long after the Paula incident, if he remembered right.

“You woke me up,” 2-D said, rubbing the imprint of his seat off his cheek.

“Yeah well, you know. Feel free to go back to sleep. Don’t let me stop you, eh?” Murdoc sniggered and returned the tape to its place, stretching his back out. It cracked deliciously and 2-D groaned.

“Ew, don’t do that.”

“Why ever not?” Murdoc took advantage of 2-D still being seated to loom over him as best he could. Dee just raised an eyebrow and stood up, towering almost a whole head over Murdoc.

“It’s gross.” Dee said, stretching as well. “Come on, let’s go bother Russ.”

“That sounds like a wonderful plan.” Murdoc waited for 2-D to exit the home theatre before flicking off the lights and shitting the door with a click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noodle's dialogue: "Arigatōgozaimashita!" = Thank you so much! "Dōmo arigatōgozaimashita! Chōshoku ga owattara purei dekimasu ka?" = Thank you very much! Can I play when we are done with breakfast?
> 
> My sincerest apologies for how late this update was! I've lost a bit of my steam for this fic, I think in part because I was just not super happy with this chapter and I wanted to move on. It's here now, though. I can't make any promises about when this fic will next be updating, as I'm not as inspired to keep working, but we'll see.
> 
> -Noodle had Pokemon Yellow and that's final. She's a Pikachu girl  
> -The 'I hate you,' 'No you don't,' 'No, I don't,' dialogue has been in my mind since like January.  
> -I was gonna take out the bit about the apartment and the cookies but my friend liked it so I guess it's staying.  
> -Murdoc is a monster for thinking Addams Family can only be watched around Halloween. Addams Family can and should be watched always.  
> -I love The Godfather so much you guys. It's aesthetically pleasing and just dull enough for most of the movie that I can zone out and stare into the middle distance with no worries.


End file.
